Enchantée
by RainboIsland
Summary: When she showed up on Delphine's doorstep with a beat up book bag over her shoulder and hopeful eyes asking for a place to stay… The French woman couldn't say no.


**A/N** To anyone who tried to read this before I don't know what happened to the formatting it was fine when I saved the document. I'm reposting and hoping it works this time.

When she showed up on Delphine's doorstep with a beat up book bag over her shoulder and hopeful eyes asking for a place to stay… The French woman couldn't say no.

Now it's been almost a week and Cosima's made herself at home. The bag was half filled with books and half with clothes. Her laptop and accessories jammed into all the extra space in it she could find. Now all those things are scattered across the floor of Delphine's guest bedroom.

She comes home from long days at a job she has twice the qualifications for to find her guest working at something she doesn't know on her colorful skinned laptop. She tells her dinners in the oven, and should be done by the time she washes up.

They don't talk much. When they do it's never about the time they spent together at DYAD. When they do it's about what's happening in the field. It's Cosima's long ramblings about new theories and the things she's seen in the past year and a half. (Delphine's gathered she's been traveling, that she's run low on funds, and places to go, and ended up here.)

They don't speak of the other clones, but sometimes Delphine walks past the guest bedroom at night, (The door is never all the way closed, Cosima never shuts herself off from Delphine.) and can hear a crackly British accent, and sometimes the shrill notes of a suburban house wife.

All of this happens in a months time, and Delphine has grown accustomed to having Cosima at the edges of her life. She's grown used to their shared company. But she's grown used to the strange distance between them as well, she's almost sure they'll never be what they used to.

That is until she comes home early one night, five o'clock instead of her usual seven or eight. She turns the corner from setting her bag down on the coffee table to see into the never closed door of the guest bedroom, Cosima's room.

She hasn't forgotten the gentle curves of Cosima's figure, but she is reminded of them in crips detail then.

She knows she should look away. But she can't all she can do is stare, eating up every inch of bare tan skin with her eyes. Her brain makes small notes of changes. She's fit again, healthy, unlike the last times she saw her in such a state. There's new ink on her body, lettering across the curve of her ribs.

It's just background sound in her brain, these observations. Sound to fill in the ringing in her ears, the rush of blood as her body remembers nights filled with love for the woman in the other room.

The woman who has now noticed her staring. The woman whose eyes have locked with hers.

She makes no move to cover herself. She lifts a hand, as if to open herself up more. She pushes back the short wet mop of brown curls off her forehead.

The movement causes something to break in Delphine and she's moving. She's moving with no permission from her mind toward this woman who has been the center of gravity in her life since the day she laid eyes on her. This woman who has kept her unconsciously rooted to the spot, in this city, hoping she will come back to her.

When their lips meet it's as if a dam has broken in both of them.

Their time spent in the shared space of Delphine's apartment has all been slow definite movements. So they can predict each other. They've even outlining motivations so as not to scare the other away.

But there is none of that now. There's no slow and gentle.

They are two colliding bodies with the force of wasted time and unsaid words behind them each.

Delphine is all needy hands. Pressing her palms into Cosima's moist back. Pressing her lips into lips, and tongue into tongue. Chest into chest, and pounding heart into ribs.

Cosima is passion in the form of heavy gasps and grabbing Delphine's cheeks.

They tangle together and Delphine is curling her hands in loose hair, bringing Cosima closer closer closer.

They fall back against the quilt of the guest bed with the airy rush of Delphine's clothes against Cosima's skin.

Cosima is too many days ended in wondering about Delphine as she shoves her coat back, and off, and _away_.

Teeth clack and lips smack. They kiss forcefully, and lovingly for minutes. A need grown too long with only brushes of shoulders as they do dishes as if there wasn't a history between them long and complex and twisted like a python.

Cosima hooks her legs behind Delphine's knees and rolls them with a force. A force created by days full of reading Delphine's books and wandering into her room to lay on her bed and smell her. Only to feel guilty for wanting a closeness she has pushed away.

Delphine's hips rock up with practice formed by one night stands with women she hoped would fill the emptiness Cosima left in her.

Cosima gasps with a release of tension built from the day she walked away from Delphine until now as her coarse work pants press up into her core.

They kiss until Delphine's hand finds its way down Cosima's side and rubs over the light ridges of permanent ink on her skin.

The gentle touch causes Cosima to giggle and they part at the endearing sound that has always had a place in bed between them.

Delphine looks down at the word printed on the only being she's ever loved's skin. She reads it in a hush, made more sensual by the husk of Cosima's kisses have made of her voice, and the ripple of her accent.

"Enchantée.."


End file.
